


Totally Worth It

by goodmanperfectsoldier



Series: College Chemistry [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Inspired by Twitter, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 17:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmanperfectsoldier/pseuds/goodmanperfectsoldier
Summary: Steve made a huge mistake this morning. He can't go to his chem lab in shorts, and he can't make it home to change and still get back in time. He's wondering if he's just out of luck until he spots a very cute boy in a pair of sweatpants that just might solve his problem...





	Totally Worth It

Steve is making his way across the quad, a warm spring breeze blowing across the lawn. He stops for a second to enjoy it; today is the first really warm day of the year, and Steve hates the winter, so he lives for the first signs of spring in the air. At least until they get his allergies going.

But for now, it’s just a clean, pollen-free breeze grazing his shins. Steve’s so glad he decided to wear shorts today. Totally worth it.

He stands to one side of the path for another few seconds, and then reminds himself, sadly, that he has to get to chem lab.

Chem lab. _Fuck_.

Shorts are great for a warm spring day outside, but not so great for chem lab. Not great at all, actually. Or allowed, even. Steve turns around without thinking and takes off back in the direction of his apartment, which is just off campus. He’s missed enough lab classes that if he doesn’t make this one, he’ll lose an entire letter grade, and he’s already doing poorly enough in chem as it is. And he has a scholarship, so if he gets less than a B, he’s in real danger.

Unfortunately, he realizes a minute later, he’s also in danger if he keeps running all the way home and back—in danger of, like, dying. _Goddamn asthma,_ he thinks, already short of breath. He stops in his tracks and checks his watch. Asthma or not, there’s no way he’s going to make it home, change clothes, and get all the way to his lab building in time. There’s a tardiness cut-off: ten minutes late and he won’t be able to get in, no matter what he’s wearing.

Steve spins around in a circle, thinking. He needs pants. Where can he get pants in the middle of the day on a college campus? He doesn’t know anyone who still lives in the dorms, and he wouldn’t have time to get to any of them, anyway. His best bet right now is to find a kind stranger who will let him…borrow their pants.

 _Yeah, Rogers, that’s gonna work out real well,_ he thinks. But he doesn’t have any choice.

Thankfully, it only takes a couple of seconds to set his sights on a likely-looking target. There’s a guy coming up the sidewalk about fifteen yards away. He’s definitely not Steve’s size—he’s at least a foot taller and weighs maybe fifty more pounds—but he’s wearing joggers that can probably be rolled up and cinched at the waist. And he looks like a nice guy, even from far away. Like the kind of guy who will just say no and let Steve leave if he doesn’t want to help.

Steve takes a deep breath and sets out at a jog again. A minute later, he skids to a stop in front of the guy, and, shit, he can’t actually catch his breath enough to say anything.

“Uh,” the guy says. “Whoa, are you okay?”

No, he isn’t, actually. Steve slumps over a little, hands on his knees, trying to focus on his breathing. He knows it’s not the right stance for this, but it’s still automatic, even after years of asthma attacks. Then he registers a voice saying, “Oh, no, not like that, here,” and it seems like he picked the right guy for several reasons, because before Steve knows it, there are gentle hands on his shoulders, pushing him upright and guiding his hands behind his head. His airways all opened up now, Steve is able to take a couple deep breaths.

“Sorry,” the stranger says. Steve looks up and he’s blushing, which, wow, that’s cute. He’s cute all over, actually, now that Steve gets a look at him. He’s tall, so tall, and broad, like he could pick Steve right up, if he wanted. His brown hair is shiny and pulled back into a little bun, and his blue eyes are bright and sharp, but he looks so kind. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve wishes this wasn’t how they were meeting; it’d be kinda nice to be able to ask this guy out on a date, instead.

But the rest of his brain is focused on the task at hand. “No—that’s okay—thank you,” he says, chest still heaving. “But I need—I need your pants.”

 _Well, that’s one way to ask, Rogers_ , Steve thinks.

“What?” the guy asks, which is fair.

“I’ve got, shit,” Steve says, breaking off to take a deep breath. “I’ve got lab in like ten minutes and I threw these shorts on today because it’s so nice out finally and I wasn’t thinking but I can’t go to lab like this and I tried to run home to change but there’s no time and if I’m late I can’t get in anyway so I need your pants,” he adds, all at once.

“Hold on, don’t get wheezy again,” the guy says, and it’s Steve’s turn to blush. He’s honestly not used to strangers _caring_ so much. Steve takes a couple more breaths, slow, to ward off said wheezing and prove to the guy that he’s fine.

He really needs an answer, though, because he’s running out of time. “Sorry,” Steve says. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t an emergency. I’ll lose a whole letter grade if I miss another lab and I’ve got a scholarship, so. If you’re gonna say no, can you do it so I can try someone else?” He fixes the stranger with a pleading gaze and hopes it works. He really wants him to say yes, mostly so he doesn’t fail chemistry, but also a little bit because he wants an excuse to give him his number.

“It’s okay,” the guy says, quickly. _Oh thank god,_ Steve thinks. “I’ll do it. We gonna trade?” _Oh._ Yeah, they’re going to have to, Steve figures. He hadn’t really thought that far. No way is this dude going to fit into Steve’s shorts, either. Well, maybe. They’re kind of loose on him, actually.

Anyway. Not Steve’s problem at the moment, the dude said yes, he can deal with it.

“Thank you, god. Okay, there’s a bathroom over here,” Steve says, a weight lifting off his chest. The guy nods and follows Steve to the closest building, then to the bathroom, where they part ways into separate stalls. The sweatpants come flying over the divider after a couple seconds, and Steve slides out of his shorts as quick as he can and flings them back. He pulls the joggers on and tugs the string in the waistband as far as it’ll go, knotting it tight. They still ride low on his skinny hips, but whatever. He doesn’t have to look good, he just has to be in dress code. Steve leans down and rolls the cuffs up a couple times so he doesn’t trip, then bangs out of the stall.

He only barely remembers that he’ll need his shorts back and stops to pull his sketchbook and a pencil out of his bag. He tears a corner of a sheet off and scribbles down his phone number and name.

“I have to go or I won’t make it,” Steve says, sticking his hand, with the paper, under the door of the next stall, where the guy must still be changing. “Text me!” The guy takes the paper and that’s all the response that Steve has time for. He flies out of the room, letting the door slam behind him, hoping that he hasn’t been too rude to the stranger who just saved his ass.

His phone buzzes in his messenger bag on the way, but Steve can’t take the time to stop and check it. He’ll look when he’s out of lab. He’s late, but not too late: he makes it into the room a single minute before the tardy cut-off, and he only has to take another minute to catch his breath again and pull his pants up a little. They slide right back down, of course, but oh well. He made it, and that’s all that matters!

The lab goes as well as can be expected. Steve hates chemistry and isn’t great at it, but he has a really nice, patient lab partner who actually loves it and doesn’t mind doing most of the work. The sweatpants keep slipping down and Steve has to re-tie them tighter a couple of times, but otherwise everything goes smoothly and after a couple of hours, it’s done and he can finally check his phone. There’s a text from an unknown number, and Steve smiles when he reads it.

“Hey, Steve. This is Bucky, the pants guy. Hope you make it on time but don’t die on the way, please. I like those sweats :)” _Bucky,_ Steve thinks. _That’s a cute name._ He saves it to his contacts and then types out a response as he walks out of the building.

“Made it on time! Didn’t die :) Tell me where to meet you and we can swap back. I owe you big, let me know how I can make it up to you—I can Venmo you or something?” What Steve really wants to do is take Bucky out for a cup of coffee. But he doesn’t even know if Bucky likes men or not, and he doesn’t want to end up with his shorts stolen if he makes Bucky uncomfortable. He likes those shorts.

The bubbles that mean Bucky is typing pop up, hang out for a moment, and then disappear again. Steve pauses at a corner to wait before he crosses the street, and after another minute, the text comes through.

“I’m glad,” it reads. “I just want my pants back! I’m at the library if you wanna head this way. And, well. If this is totally out of line, I understand (and I won’t hold your shorts hostage). But I wouldn’t say no to a date?” _A date!_ Steve grins, big, before he can help himself. That’s _exactly_ what he wants. He starts walking toward the library, careful not to trip or let the pants get too loose, and sends his reply on the way, smiling the whole time.

“Well, I already got into your pants, so how could I say no? I’d love to go on a date with you, Pants Guy. I’ll be at the library in a few :)” It’s a little sassy, a little forward, but he hopes that Bucky likes that sort of thing. Steve slides his phone in the pocket of his bag so he can concentrate on getting to the library in one piece.

When he arrives, he’s greeted with a truly glorious sight: Bucky’s standing near the entrance, leaning casually against the wall with his backpack at his feet, decked out in Steve’s cargo shorts. Cargo shorts which are, Steve can clearly see, several sizes too small. They’re loose on Steve but tight across Bucky’s thick thighs, fabric stretched over a bulge between his legs that would have Steve’s mouth watering if he weren’t actively telling it not to. He lets go of the waistband of Bucky’s sweats and allows them to slide down enough to reveal a flash of hip bone and boxer briefs as he closes the distance between them.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve calls, still a couple yards out, so Bucky has time to notice. Steve is delighted when Bucky looks up and immediately starts to turn pink.

 _Adorable_ , Steve thinks, as he sidles up next to him. Steve can’t wait to see how their date goes. Steve can’t wait to see how _far down_ that _blush_ goes. This guy’s gonna be fun.

**Author's Note:**

> \- couldn't stop thinking about these boys and just had to write this again from Steve's POV!!!  
> \- based on [this tweet](https://twitter.com/softestbuck/status/1116305100916572162?s=20)  
> \- thanks again to [aka_spacedog](https://twitter.com/aka_spacedog) for the quick beta read and kind comments!  
> \- don't forget that I've declared 2019 the Year of Self-Indulgence! NO SHAME, WE SELF-INDULGE LIKE MEN #indulgeyoself2k19  
> \- check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softestbuck) for, frankly, a bunch of nonsense


End file.
